


The Losers (country) Club

by IAmTheUnsub



Series: Reddie Au [4]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - High School, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Richie Tozier, Gen, M/M, Meet-Cute, Mentioned Patricia Blum Uris, Nobody is Dead, Rich Richie Tozier, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier is a Little Shit, Soft Eddie Kaspbrak, Underage Smoking, country club au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-21 02:50:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22553890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmTheUnsub/pseuds/IAmTheUnsub
Summary: Eddie has finally resisted his mother's abusive ways enough to get a job at the country club in Bangor with his best friend Stan. Richie's dad keeps trying to set him up with the daughters of his wealthy country club buddies. Patty's cool, but she's more interested in the hot waiter. Luckily, so is Richie.A fake relationship AU where Patty and Richie are bros and fake a relationship to date who they really want.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak & Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Patricia Blum Uris/Stanley Uris, Richie Tozier & Patricia Blum Uris, Richie Tozier & Stanley Uris, Richie Tozier/Patricia Blum Uris
Series: Reddie Au [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1545535
Comments: 7
Kudos: 86





	The Losers (country) Club

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, me again, writing another meet-cute when I should be working on my other stories.  
> You know the drill, please inform the dyslexic of any bad spelling!

Eddie literally didn't think he could be any more bored than he was. He stood in the corner in his dumbass suit, holding his dumbass tray of drinks and waiting for some dumbass rich person to ask for more champagne. He would quit… if that wouldn’t mean admitting his Mom was right. He could still hear her shrieking at him,

_“You don’t need a job Eddie-bear!”,_

_“I give you everything you need!”_

_“I’m your mother, Eddie! It’s my job to provide for you”_

It had been a _long_ argument, having started back when Eddie was only fifteen and he found out that his mother was lying about it being illegal to work before you turned eighteen. Stan had come to school one day all excited about his new job at the Bangor Country Club and Eddie had launched into a rant about how he was a criminal now and he had to quit that job and call the police on the scumbag who dared to lure him into a life of crime. Stan just sat there, politely allowing Eddie to talk himself out before explaining that labour laws allowed kids to go to work at fourteen unless it was hard physical labour.

Then he had the school librarian look it up when Eddie didn’t believe him.

To say that Eddie had been elated would be an understatement. He’d practically levitated home and skipped through the front door to tell his mommy the good news. She hadn’t been happy. Eddie thought she’d be proud of him for wanting to get a job and take on some responsibility. He thought she’d be relieved that she wouldn’t have to give him money anymore.

She was furious. She screamed at him for a good half hour and sent him to his room without dinner. He naively thought that she just didn’t want him working so far away, so he brought home applications for the Aladdin Theatre, Center Street Drug Store and the grocery store, all of which were less than five minutes from their own front door. He watched her rip them to pieces on his way to bed hungry for the second night in a row. 

He let it go for a while, happy to take her money for whatever he wanted, just out of spite. She would gladly fork over fistfuls of cash just to keep him unemployed and dependant on her. Until he asked for money to pay for Drivers' Ed and a learners' permit and she flat out refused.

“You don’t need to learn how to drive, Eddie-bear. It’s dangerous, and those cars are filthy, how many students do you think don’t wash their hands? And how often do you think the instructor sterilises the steering wheel?” she’d ranted at him, shuddering in disgust.

“Mommy, please! I’ll take my own anti-bacterial spray and sanitise it myself!” he had tried to reason with her.

“No, Eddie. That’s final!” She’d tried to put an end the conversation, expecting him to back down like he always did.

“You said you’d give me money for whatever I needed!” he threw back at her.

“Yes, and you don’t _need_ to learn how to drive! You have a perfectly good bike”, she told him, in a tone of voice that made it clear she thought _he_ was the unreasonable one.

“Momm-”

“NO EDDIE! I WILL NOT PAY FOR YOU TO LEARN HOW TO DRIVE AWAY FROM ME!” She screamed, louder than he’d ever heard her.

Eddie had just nodded shakily at her and retreated back to the relative safety of his room.

The next day he asked Stan if the country club was still hiring. 

He had almost caved and confessed to her a million times, when he had the application hidden in his backpack, when he secured an interview and had to lie to his mother about where he was going, when he was offered the job. Every time he wavered, Stan pushed him back on track. If his Mom wouldn’t even let him drive, did Eddie think she’d give him money for college? Even The University of Maine, an hour and a half away, would be too far for her. And Eddie had his heart set on NYU. So he steeled himself, opened a secret bank account in Bangor with instructions to send any correspondence to Stan’s address, hitched rides to work with Stan’s dad and told his Mom he’d joined the Christian Youth Club at school.

He’d never felt more free.

But now, two years later, he was bored.

“Stan, fucking shoot me”, he pled as his friend walked up to join him in the corner of the function room.

“Would if I could, even just to shut you up”, Stan replied, picking at his fingernails. He had a tray of mixed drinks held above his head, balanced on one hand, a skill Eddie had yet to master. 

“Rude… What are we thinking? Spot who's cheating on their wife tonight?”

“No, I’m not playing this dumb game again”, Stan protested.

“Stan, please. This is the most boring group of rich people I’ve ever seen”, he whined.

“They’re a dentist’s union, what did you expect?” Stan snarked back.

“I didn’t even know sugar free champagne was a thing”, Eddie grimaced.

“Me neither, it’s not bad though”, Stan assured him.

 _“You’ve been drinking it?!”_ Eddie shrieked.

 _“Shh! Yes, Eddie, we’re at a fucking dentist’s unions party, of course I’m drinking!”_ Stan hissed back.

“…It’s really not bad?” Eddie asked, looking questioningly at his own tray.

“Could be worse, Wh-oh my god! Eddie!”, Stan laughed incredulously as Eddie grabbed a glass, turned his back to the room and took a long sip. His face screwed up in disgust immediately, but he still took another sip.

“Jesus, remind me never to become a dentist”, he coughed out.

Stan burst into raucous laughter, having to put his tray down to avoid dropping it and shattering the glasses on the tile floor.

* * *

Richie looked up from his plate of pretentiously tiny hors d'oeuvres, wishing he’d thought to sneak in some candy when he heard the out-of-place laughter ringing through the ballroom. He glanced up, dying to see what could be so funny about plaque or root canals or whatever the fuck dentists talked about in their off time. He located the source of the laughter in a corner. Two waiters, both dressed to the nines in matching back suits the club insisted the staff wear. The laughing one was tall, with curly blond hair and a kippah pinned onto the crown of his head. The boy beside him though? Oh boy, Richie was suddenly sure the “No Candy” rule didn’t apply to eye candy. The guy was shorter than his friend, hair curling more gently onto his forehead and an easy grin on his lips. The suit pants were practically clinging to what looked like some seriously muscular legs. And was that a glass of champagne in his hand? Naughty. Richie likey.

He was trying to come up with a line to use on the boy (realistically he knew he’d use the eye candy line) when he heard his father call for him.

“Rich? Richard, there you are! Come meet my colleagues!” Wentworth insisted, clapping a genial hand on Richie’s shoulder.

Richie took one last longing look at the boys having so much more fun than him, before he plastered on his politest smile and followed after his dad.

They weaved their way through the packed room and Richie was dismayed when they reached their destination and he saw a man, a woman and a girl about Richie’s age.

Here we go again.

“Ah, Herbert! Meet my son, Richard. Richard, meet Herbert and Ruth Blum”, Wentworth introduced them enthusiastically.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr and Mrs Blum” Richie greeted them. His eyes tracked over them, trying not to be too obvious in his assessment. Herbert (fucking Herbert, seriously?) was wearing a basic black suit that looked fairly plain, but Richie could tell it was high quality and expensive. Ruth (much more normal name, thank Christ) was wearing a pretty green dress and had her hair twisted up into a complicated up-do, though Richie was sure she hadn’t done it herself with the fucking three inch acrylic nails she was wearing. They were well-to-do, but not overly flashy. Exactly his dad’s M.O. 

“You too, Richard”, Herbert replied, looking pleased when Richie offered his hand to shake, “This is our daughter, Patricia”.

The girl smiled at Richie, but he could tell it matched his own painted-on one. She was pretty enough, with dirty blonde hair pulled up into a complicated-looking twist, dainty round-framed glasses perched on the bridge of her nose, much more fashionable than Richie’s own chunky frames. She had simple, natural makeup on and a pretty, if a bit demure, dress with a soft white cardigan draped over her shoulders. She looked right out of the fifties. Too bad she wasn’t Richie’s type, on account of being a girl and all.

“It’s good to meet you, Patricia. Are you enjoying your evening?” Richie asked formally.

“You too, Richard. I am, thank you for asking” Patricia replied, just as formally. Her voice was soft and overly polite.

Their parents grinned ecstatically at them, as if they’d just declared their love for each other upon first sight. Richie actually saw his father playfully elbow Patricia’s father in the ribs.

“Well, I’m sure you kids don’t want to hang around the old people all night, eh?” Herbert said suggestively, he turned to smile at Wentworth and Richie caught a glimpse of a kippah perched over a sizeable bald spot.

“Yes! Richie, why don’t you and Patricia go have a look at the buffet? Maybe have a dance?” Wentworth winked at his son, as if he was doing Richie a huge favour. 

Richie just smiled back, hoping it didn’t seem too wooden, and offered his arm to Patricia. She gently rested her hand on his forearm and allowed him to lead her away through the crowd again. They don’t speak until they’re at the buffet table and Richie picks up a plate to fill for her.

“Uh… the mini hot dogs are pretty good?” he offered, pointing at them with a serving spoon.

“I can’t eat those, they’re not kosher”, Patty told him, shaking her head with a cautious look on her face. He can tell she’s waiting for backlash and his heart aches for her.

“Oh, cool. Jewish, very cool. So chicken’s good, right?” he asked, reaching for a serving spoon that hadn't been touching the hot dogs.

“Uh, yeah, as long as there’s no dairy with it I’m alright with chicken”, Patricia replied, warming up a little.

Richie nodded sagely and picked up the little recipe card in front of the dish. He studied it carefully, then scooped a portion onto her plate with a smile. When Patty smiled back at him, it seemed much more natural. He pointed towards the pasta dish and picked up the recipe card when she looked interested.

“Rigatoni pasta in a tomato and basil sauce. No diary and no beef, you can’t have beef, right?” he asked.

“Depending on the cut, yeah. Thanks, Richard”, she replied, smile growing even wider. Richie loaded a plate for himself, careful not to put anything she couldn’t have on there, just in case she wanted to pick at his plate too.

“Richie’s fine”, he insisted, leading them to an empty table and pulling her chair out for her.

“In that case, Patty’s perfect”, she fired back, looking relieved.

“Yes she is”, Richie teased, with an overly exaggerated wink. He was absolutely fucking delighted when Patty let an unbecoming snort loose.

“So, what brings you to the most pretentious get-together in Maine?”, Richie joked, spooning some pasta into his mouth.

“Ugh, my dad has a chip on his shoulder. He wanted to be the Jew in Bangor Country Club”, Patty replied with a huge eye roll.

“Wow, your dad paid ten grand in fees out of spite? He’s way cooler than someone called Herbert has any right to be”, Richie quipped, trying to pull another snort out of the girl.

“Ten grand? He told my Mom it was two! She’s gonna’ be so mad”, Patty’s grin suggests to Richie that she isn’t actually all that worried about him.

“Oh, I hope your dad has health insurance”, Richie replied, thinking about Patty’s mother and her sharp nails.

“Right? He’s so fucked”, Patty giggled, then stared at Richie in horror, one hand pressed to her mouth.

“Patricia Middle Name Blum, did you just swear at me? ME? Your future husband according to our parents? What the fuck?!” Richie crowed at her, delighted again that she wasn’t a stick in the mud like every other girl his dad had thrown at him.

Patty was visibly relieved, “Yeah… This is pretty weird, right? I thought he’d be all for me getting a Jewish boyfriend, but I think he cares more about us getting some status right now”

“You too?! My dad’s been trying to set me up with the daughter of every country club member he knows!” Richie exclaimed, gesturing wildly with his fork.

“I’m not the first? Colour me heartbroken” Patty deadpanned, and Richie couldn’t help the bark of laughter that threatened to spew his latest bite of food all over the table. Patty seemed proud of herself, maybe even a little smug.

“So, is your dad devastated that he’s technically not the first Jew in the club?” Richie asked once his mouth was safely empty.

Patty looked surprised for a second before she put her cutlery down. She primly dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a napkin, then picked her knife up again.

“Where is he?”, she asked, “There can be only one”

Richie nodded sagely, picked up his own knife, and pointed it across the room to where the two waiters were still chatting and laughing (slacking off, as Richie’s father would call it). Patty’s eyes lit up and she lowered the knife a little.

“Oh, I can’t kill him. He’s cute”, she mumbled, suddenly all shy again.

“Wow, I guess this matchmaking session is a bust, then?” Richie asked her.

“Were we not… on the same page with that?”, Patty asks, eyes wide with guilt.

“No were totally were. Let’s go get you a cute Jewish boyfriend”, Richie exclaimed, standing up and pulling Patty to her feet, “You could wear matching head thingies!”

“It's called a yarmulkes or kippah, and women don’t wear them”, Patty explained from her spot on Richie’s arm.

“Well, that’s fucking rude, should we go grab your dad’s so you have something in common?”

* * *

“How well do you think they wash these glasses?”, Eddie asked, eyeing up his newly empty champagne glass.

“I’m pretty sure they boil them”, Stan replied.

“Are you just saying that to shut me up?” Eddie pushed, suspicious.

“Is it working?”

Eddie shrugged and nabbed another glass off his own tray. He took a huge gulp, only to choke on it when he heard an unfamiliar voice.

“Well, well, well, drinking on the job, huh?”

Stan and Eddie both snapped to attention and looked up to identify their intruder. They saw a guy and girl who about their age, arms linked sweetly. They were a cute couple, well dressed and well groomed. They fit right in with the snooty, entitled crowd and Eddie was suddenly terrified he was about to lose the job he’d fought so hard for.

“Uh, shit. I mean, Sorry! Sir, sorry sir!” Eddie babbled. Eyes wide and horrified. 

“Don’t be an ass, Richie!” the girl said, driving an elbow into her boyfriend’s ribs.

“Jesus, Patty! I was just trying to break the ice!” he protested.

“Well you fucking shattered it, with the subtlety of an armoured tank!”, the girl (Patty, Eddie corrected himself) hissed back.

“Richie ‘The Tank’ Tozier; that’d be a good wrestler name, don’t you think? Hey, can I get one of those?” the guy (Richie Tozier apparently) asked, pointing at the champagne on Eddie’s tray.

“Depends. Can you put a word in for me at the next Young Republicans of America meeting?”, Stan snarked, snagging a glass and holding it just out of Richie’s reach. He gave Richie an appraising look, up and down. Richie looked down at his navy suit and red tie, chosen by his father. He knew his usually curly head of hair was plastered to his scalp by a ridiculous amount of gel (also care of his father.)

“What? Too Ronald Reagan?” Richie asked with a grin, brandishing the end of his tie playfully at Stan.

“Just a smidge”, Stan agreed, finally relinquishing the glass. 

“Patty looks cute though, right?” Richie prompted, pushing the girl in front of him slightly.

“Richie!”, she protested, thwacking at his arm.

“What? This is why we’re here, right? I’m basically Jewish cupid! Oh, JEWPID!” Richie exclaimed, eyes lit up in delight. His companions just stared at him blankly for a second before Stan reached over and guided his champagne glass up to his lips to keep him quiet.

“You’re Jewish? Do you go to a temple here?” Stan asked Patty, still holding the glass up for Richie.

“No, we just moved nearby, to a town called Derry? We’ll be starting at the synagogue there soon” Patty told him.

“Really? I’ll see you there then, my dad’s the Rabbi”

“Mmm-hmm-mhmhmf”, Richie mumbled against his empty champagne flute. Stan pulled it back to let him talk, “I know it’s devastating for you that you can’t have me, but your dad has to be happy with a Rabbi’s son, right Patty?”

Patty and Stan’s faces immediately flared bright red. Stan shot a pleading look at Eddie and the smaller teen grabbed another full glass and passed it to Richie, letting him hold it himself this time. Richie, just glad they hadn’t asked him for any ID, drank up. He gestured for Eddie to take another one for himself.

“I won’t narc on you, you know”, he promised when the other boy hesitated.

Eddie eyed Stan and Patty, now chatting quietly between themselves, then looked back to Richie. Stan’s dad was taking them home, and he was staying the night at the Uris house so he didn’t have to worry about his Mom checking his breath or whatever.

“Fuck it, why not”, he mumbled, snagging his third glass.

“That’s the spirit, penguin suit!”, Richie cheered, clapping Eddie on the shoulder.

“That’s rich coming from a Ronald Reagan tribute act”, Eddie scoffed.

“Ouch, what should I call you then?” Richie wheedled, hoping for a name.

“Eddie”

“Sure thing Eds”

“Oh fuck you”, Eddie snapped, before a horrified expression took over his features. He looked down at his glass, then back at Richie, who was looking at him with wide, incredulous eyes. Eddie gulped and then ever so slowly placed the glass back onto his tray.

“Might be for the best”, Richie approved, before bursting out into peals of laughter.

Eddie watched in awe as Richie's whole face seemed to change, features lit up by genuine happiness. He hadn’t realised how stiff and false the other boy had looked until he saw him laugh. His eyes crinkled up at the corners, but didn’t close, so Eddie could see how much warmer their brown colour got. He also hadn’t noticed how hot he was.

Fuck.

“Richard, Patricia! There you are!”

All at once, the happy, casual atmosphere popped like a soap bubble. Patty was at Richie’s side in a flash, arm linked through his like it had never left. Eddie suddenly had Richie’s half empty glass in his hand without ever having taken it. The beautiful, easy smile on Richie’s face faded and was replaced by a dead-behind-the-eyes expression that Eddie wouldn’t have been able to peg as fake ten minutes ago, but now looked all wrong on the boy. Eddie looked up at the cause of the change, surprised to see two middle aged men and a woman making their way to them. Richie caught Eddie's eye and took a second to flash him an apologetic smile before the trio were upon them.

“We thought you two had eloped!” exclaimed one of the men, showing off the perfect teeth you'd expect from a dentist with a bright smile.

“No, Dad. Just getting Patricia something to drink”, Richie replied, voice flat but cordial.

“Here, this one’s non-alcoholic”, Stan grabbed a tumbler full of something red from his tray and offered it to Richie. The bespectacled boy smiled gratefully and passed the glass off to Petty.

“Non-alcoholic, eh?”, the other man, (Eddie assumed he was Patty’s dad by the Kippah perched on his head and how he was eyeing Stan’s), “you keep kosher, young man?”

“Yes, Sir”, Stan replied, offering him an identical drink.

“This is Stanley Uris, Dad. His father is Donald Uris”, Patty introduced them.

“You’re Rabbi Uris’ boy? What a coincidence. I’m Herbert Blum, this is my wife Ruth. You’ve already been introduced to Patricia, I assume?” Herbert asked, offering a hand for Stan to shake. Stan took the hand and shook it politely.

“Yes Sir. I look forward to seeing you all at temple”.

“Yes, wonderful! We were worried about Patricia having trouble getting involved, but a familiar face should really help!” Herbert praised, still shaking Stan’s hand.

“I’d be glad to introduce her to some of the other youth members, we get together for study sessions once a week”, Stan told him, customer service smile still firmly in place. Eddie looked at him as if he was nuts, Stan hated the other kids at his synagogue. He avoided them like the plague.

“Perfect, we’ll get your contact details from your father next week”, Herbert nodded, finally releasing Stan’s hand and turning his attention to Richie, “Richard, I’m sorry to cut your time with Patricia short, but we have to be leaving now. I’ve got an early meeting tomorrow”

Richie nodded understandingly and turned to Patricia with a smile, “Hopefully I’ll see you again soon?”, he asked.

Patricia looked to her father, hoping for his approval. She might not have been interested in Richie romantically, but she still wanted to be allowed to spend time with him.

“Of course, your father has my number, Richard” he replied with an easy smile.

“In that case, I’ll see you soon, Patricia”, Richie said as he dipped down to kiss her chastely on the cheek.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see their fathers look at each other smugly. Patty smiled softly at him and waved goodbye before being led off by her parents.

“Good job son, the Blums are an important, wealthy family”, Wentworth clapped his son on the shoulder and shook him a little.

Richie, feeling distinctly like a whore, just smiled and nodded at his father.

“I’m going to do another lap and say my goodbyes before we head home, alright?”, Wentworth didn’t wait for a reply before he dissolved back into the crowd.

Richie heaved a heavy sigh and went to snatch yet another glass of champagne off of Eddie’s tray. The smaller boy took a step back to stop him.

“I think you’ve probably had enough, man”, he said.

“Yeah, probably. Listening to him plan my fucking wedding on the drive home would be easier with another nine or ten glasses in me, though”, Richie pleaded. Eddie just shook his head apologetically and kept the tray out of his reach.

“Listen, we’re heading on break if you want to come with, maybe get some fresh air?”, Stan offered, not entirely unselfishly. He wanted answers about Patty.

“Yeah, that sounds great actually”

* * *

“You smoke?” Richie asked, holding out a pack of cigarettes to Eddie.

“No thanks”, Eddie declined, shaking his head.

Richie just shrugged and leaned back against the brick wall of the alley behind the kitchens.

“I’ll take one”, Stan said, holding out his hand.

“Sure thing Stan the Man”, Richie tossed him the pack and a fancy zippo lighter. Stan lit up and moved to lean beside Richie as he took his first puff. Eddie took a seat on an upturned, empty bucket that, if the handwritten label was to be believed, had once held an insane amount of mayonnaise. Eddie thought briefly about his egg allergy before he remembered he’d just ticked that one off the list of his Mom's bullshit by eating scrambled eggs at Stan’s house the week previous. The list was a mile long and Eddie had been gradually working his way through it. So far, he knew he wasn’t actually lactose intolerant, allergic to eggs, nuts or strawberries, but he did have a mild reaction to shellfish. Not that it was bad enough to stop him from eating shrimp again, the delicious little bastards.

“So, what’s the deal with you and Patty?”, Stan asked straight out.

“Wow, not one for beating around the bush, are you Stanny?”

“Nope”m Stan responded simply.

“Well, settle in for a tale, kiddos. A tale of love, lust, adventure, betrayal, crazy parents, a talking monkey, a bo-”

“Get on with it, asshole”, Eddie groaned, contemplating cutting his break short.

“Alright, jeez! Basically our parents have old money and want us to marry into old money”, Richie told them.

“MARRY?! How old are you!” Eddie hollered.

“Seventeen”, Richie shrugged.

“Jesus, that’s so fucked”, Eddie breathed out.

“Tell me about it. Patty is the latest in a long line of attempts from my dad to set me up with a nice wealthy girl. From what Patty said I’m not her first either”, Richie explained.

“You seemed to like each other well enough”, Stan commented, trying not to let the bitterness seep into his tone.

“Nah, she’s got a Jew fetish”, Richie waggled his eyebrows at Stan, “Plus, she’s really not my type”

“She’s not?” Eddie asked, wincing at how eager he seemed, hoping Richie hadn’t noticed.

“No, she’s really not”, Richie smirked, looking Eddie up and down slowly.

Eddie gulped and, though he would deny it to his dying day, squeaked a little when Richie’s tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip. Richie broke the tension first, looking away and taking another drag of his cigarette.

“So, Derry… What a shithole huh? You guys go to Derry High?” Richie asked, Eddie tried not to stare at his slick bottom lip as he watched the smoke pour out from behind it.

“Yeah, you know it?” Stan saved Eddie from having to reply.

“Uh-huh, I go there too”, Richie told them.

“Really? I thought country club kids all went to fancy-schmansy private schools?” Stan teased.

“Oh, I did. I was politely invited not to return this year”, Richie grinned impishly.

“What’d you do?” Eddie asked, curiosity overcoming his embarrassment.

“Nothing you can prove”, Richie replied, his grin turned into something a little more salacious. Eddie tried furiously to fight down a blush when the other boy winked at him.

“Hang on, it’s November”, Eddie blurted out, desperate to keep Richie’s attention on him.

“Yeah, so?” Richie asked.

“So I think I would have noticed you before now”, Eddie scoffed, then blanched when he realised what he’d just walked into.

“Really? Why is that, Eds?”, Richie asked, innocent tone offset by how he quirked one of his eyebrows suggestively.

“I mean… I. I’m sure I would have noticed some Bigfoot motherfucker lurching around the school by now!”, Eddie fired back.

“Nice save”, Stan hummed.

“Shut the fuck up, Stan!” Eddie turned away from Richie to hiss at his friend.

“I’d better get going. Maybe I’ll see you at school on Monday?” Richie said regretfully, glancing at his watch.

He waved Stan off when the boy tried to return his cigarettes, but he took the lighter and stepped closer to Eddie. He tucked the lighter into the breast pocket of Eddie’s shirt and stepped back.

“Make sure to find me at school so you can return that, Eds.”

Eddie just nodded dumbly, much to Richie’s amusement.

“Catch you later Stanley”, He said, still looking at Eddie.

“See you, President Reagan” Stan tossed back with a wave.

Richie disappeared back through the kitchen door and Eddie immediately slumped on his bucket as if someone had cut his strings. He could feel the blush he’d valiantly fought off rising up his cheeks with a vengeance. When he heard Stan start cackling, he just flipped a middle finger in his general direction.

“School’s should be fun on Monday, huh?” Stan asked, Eddie could tell he was smiling without even looking.

“Shut up, Stan!” Eddie snapped.

There was silence for a minute as Eddie did his best to cool his face down and Stan took another puff of his cigarette.

“I can’t believe you’re going to be the First Lady”

“SHUT UP STAN!”


End file.
